


A Twist of Fate

by Lady_Mischievous



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: (eventually) - Freeform, Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crushes, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-16 14:19:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13638012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Mischievous/pseuds/Lady_Mischievous
Summary: Curiosity was considered both a valuable trait and horrible vice of mages. It was his own curiosity that got Khadgar shipped off from the only home he had known.(Set in an Alternate Timeline/Universe, see notes for details.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a bit that's inspired by an idea I've had for a rp/fic blog. This story/future installments will take place in an Alternate Universe/timeline from the canon Warcraft setting. I decided to mix elements from WoW, Hearthstone (One Night in Karazhan), and a small pinch from the Warcraft Movie. It sounds like a mess but it's surprisingly a lot of fun to work with.
> 
> I'm not fully sure where this project is going to go. It's the most ambitious idea I've done in a while and for a fandom I'm still really new at writing for. It's left me a bit nervous. Still, I hope that you'll enjoy. Now, as Barnes would say: "On with the show!"

A rough jolt from the wagon shook Khadgar awake. He blinked a few times before he looked up at the night sky. How long had he slept?

 

“Hey spell-chucker, is the cargo alright back there?” the dwarven driver called back to him. “I didn’t give ya a discount outta the goodness of me heart!”

 

Khadgar was squished between large sacks of potatoes and a crate holding bottles of ale. It was uncomfortable, the scratchy burlap of the potato sacks rubbed against exposed skin. The wooden create gave him no room to adjust himself. He did his best to look over the other various bits and bobs of cargo. “Nothing seems damaged, sir.”

 

“Good, keep it that way!” the driver ordered. “I’m gonna pick up the pace!” He swung his whip and cracked it loudly.

 

“Please don’t!” Khadgar’s body roughly jerked as the wagon sped up. Desperately he clung to its side as his frightened scream echoed out into the night.

 

Deadwind Pass had earned its name for good reason. Its paths and trails winded through thick trees and along the faces of steep cliffs. It was all too easy for travelers whether on foot or carriage to fall to their doom into rushing rivers far below. Had Khadgar not hitched a ride with a traveling merchant who was familiar with the area, it would have been his own fate.

 

Yet humans were a stubborn species, people still found a way to populate the area. To Khadgar’s surprise, he would spot the occasional house or two nestled among the greenery. Just how they could stand being surrounded by such dangerous heights was beyond him. Even crossing the simple stone bridges made the young mage’s stomach do flips.

 

“Look alive, kid!” said the driver of the wagon, his sudden bark made Khadgar jump. “We’re gettin’ close to Karazhan.”

 

The wagon rattled along the road as it made its way around a bend. It tilted dangerously close to toppling over the edge but slammed back down onto the road. The cargo and passenger were jostled but miraculously everything managed to stay intact. Khadgar was treated to a good view of one of Azeroth's moons. But his admiration didn’t last long, as his eyes were drawn to something else. Standing above the rock formations and thick wilds of Deadwind was a tower. Bathed in moonlight, it gave off a haunting presence. A proud monolith that stood above everything else, it felt as though Khadgar were being watched by it. A number of lit windows were sign that there was life in the tower.

 

Khadgar jumped when the wagon hit a bump that shook the entire thing. He held his satchel to his chest as though it could do more than barely shield him. It had been a long and rough trip. Khadgar had at first thought the worst was behind him after having to sail Menethil Harbor (his fear of deep water did him no favors). Only to find that there was still a long way to go, trekking through wetlands and on the road until he could hitch a ride with caravans kind enough to take on a fledgling ‘spell chucker’. Not to mention the drastic changes in climates, from the mild weather of Lordaeron to the bitter chill of Dun Morogh, to the heat of the southern lands of Stormwind.

 

It was difficult and there were plenty of times where Khadgar wished he could turn back. But that wasn’t an option for him. He had no means of going back home, certainly not enough money. The trip down the continent was dangerous enough as it was. No, he couldn’t go back, he needed to be accepted or…

 

The sound of rattling drew Khadgar’s eyes to the bottles of ale. His eyes grew wide as he watched the valuable cargo begin to bubble within. Khadgar reached out to stop it but a small static-like zap of arcane energy made him pull his hand away. The young mage scooted away from the crate and wrapped his arms around himself.

 

“Stop it, Khadgar...” he whispered to himself. Khadgar took a deep breath through his nose and released it as a sigh. “You need to calm down.”

 

“Here’s where ye get off, kid!” the driver said as the wagon began to slow down.

 

It wasn’t long before they came to a full halt. Khadgar looked up at the driver, thankful that he could leave before anything exploded. He snatched up his satchel and climbed out of the cart. Khadgar thanked the driver as he pulled out a coin purse and paid a few coins of what little money he had left.

 

The dwarf driver counted the coins before pocketing them. “Now listen, jus’ keep following the road and ye will wind up right in Karazhan. It’s jus’ a little ways from here so ye should make it there before it gets too late. Keep a good pace, nasty things prowl in these parts at night.”

 

Khadgar looked out at the road ahead of him, he gripped the leather strap of his satchel before he began to walk. Luckily the area wasn’t completely dark. a small mining station by the mouth of a cave provided a little light. It was A small comfort but not enough for Khadgar to relax. He was still far away from the only home he had ever known.

 

Admittedly, it was his own fault.

 

Curiosity was considered both a valuable trait and horrible vice of magi. It was what spurred them to learn and experiment with the magical arts, to push the boundaries of what was possible. Of course, there were also downsides, mages that pushed ethics aside just to see what would happen. It urged some to see if they could bind and control fantastic beasts or even raise the dead. Such attempts never ended well.

 

Khadgar attempted no such things, he followed most of the rules placed upon him by the Kirin Tor. Laws and regulations were engraved into him at a young age, like the brand of the violet eye on his left arm. The problem with Khadgar was that he was born with curiosity that had an insatiable appetite. Often he'd find trouble searching for the truth behind rumors or peeking at restricted areas or tomes.

 

Most students would focus their hunger for knowledge to texts and study. Khadgar would experiment with ways to make his snooping easier. He designed tools like a mechanical cricket that would chirp to warn him of powerful magics and wards. He also designed a small spell to enhance his hearing. Picking locks and undoing seals were a hobby to him like crossword puzzles were to others. There were many nighttime ventures around the Violet Citadel. Hunting for anything that would feed his gluttonous curiosity. It was how Khadgar found quite a few dirty little secrets that the Kirin Tor wanted kept quiet.

 

Many were harmless, perhaps a little embarrassing, like the Chief Artificer’s weakness for flamewine. Others were more far more scandalous and could tarnish a reputation. Like Korrigan, the Violet Citadel's librarian, and his fascination with demon worshipers and their practices. Or Lady Delth and her fondness for young men a mere fraction of her age.

 

Given Lady Delth’s status (both marriage and society wise), Khadgar suspected it was his stumbling onto one of her affairs that was the last straw. The next thing he knew, Khadgar was suddenly selected for a ‘great honor’. He was to go to a place called Karazhan, to learn under ‘The Great Magus Medivh’. Not that Khadgar had ever heard of such a mage.

 

Doing a little digging he learned that ‘Medivh Aran’ was a hedge-mage, that on its own was incredibly strange. Such magi suffered from a lack of discipline and restraint when not watched by the violet eye of the Kirin Tor. Usually, they would always meet some grisly demise brought by their own hubris. Stories of rogue wizards bringing castles down upon themselves or blowing themselves to bits were a staple in classes of young mages-to-be. The moral of such tales always the same: ‘Never go out on your own, never take the guidance of the Kirin Tor for granted.’

 

Yet Medivh was an anomaly. He was the very thing the Kirin Tor frowned upon but they appeared to respect the man. So why was there so little information about the magus? There were scraps and bits that Khadgar tried to cobble together into a cohesive picture.

 

In one text Medivh was credited for simplifying many complex spells (the names of which were missing). There was also a letter that noted the magus had observed a fascinating phenomenon in the stars. Other bits and pieces Khadgar managed to find were filled with a mishmash of claims that clashed horribly. There was mention of Medivh being a skilled engineer, one professor said that he studied exotic animals, and in one note the magus was called a ‘patron of the arts’. Generous, selfish, kind, cruel, genius, half mad, difficult taskmaster, a man that just didn’t give a damn, all these used to describe Medivh. None of it made a lick of sense.

 

It was aggravating since it only served to fuel Khadgar’s hungry curiosity even more.

 

Upon reaching the land where the tower stood Khadgar was surprised to see that there was a village surrounding the base. He could see a number of Houses, an inn, a marketplace, and a small church. It was a strange place for a village, hidden away by the surrounding woods and mountains. Almost as though it were dropped there by some spell went awry. Perhaps it was.

 

Khadgar could feel something strange in the air. A presence that made the hairs of the back of his neck stand on end. There was a lot of magic in the land itself, he could feel it flowing through the earth under his feet. If Khadgar stood and focused, he felt energies coursing in the ground beneath his feet. It was like many surging rivers meeting at and flowing from that point.

 

But it wasn’t the time to focus on such things. As Khadgar walked through the streets and towards the tower, he opened his satchel and pulled out his letter of introduction. The purple wax seal of the violet eye stared back at him. Like him, the letter had reached its destination, it felt heavy, perhaps more so than the day it was handed to him. It felt like he was holding his own future in his hands. In a sense, he very well was and that was terrifying.

 

A small sound suddenly caught Khadgar’s attention, his gaze was drawn to the window of a nearby house. His eyes widened as he saw the glass of the window was cracking. Khadgar felt his stomach twist into a knot before picking up his pace, mentally begging his magic stay in control. He couldn’t afford to his magic lash out, not now of all times. Khadgar tried to calm himself by taking in deep breaths but it was all too soon that he found himself standing before the main doors of the tower.

 

Khadgar felt his heart pounding harder in his rib cage as he stared up at the large, imposing building before him. In the dark of the night, it looked almost sinister, even the moon that hung high in the sky felt like it was judging him. It was getting harder to breathe as his chest felt tighter with each passing second. Khadgar swallowed trying to force his emotions down as he raised a shaky hand to knock on the large wooden door.

 

A loud explosion shook the tower from far above. Khadgar looked up just in time to see falling, shattered glass heading right for him. The young mage scrambled to get out of the way and managed to do so just in time. Sharp pieces of colored glass rained down right where he had been standing. Had he not moved when he did Khadgar would have ended up a bloodied mess.

 

“What in light’s name was that…?” Khadgar thought aloud, a bit shaken. He looked up and saw smoke flowing out from one of the windows of the tower. He could have sworn he heard the distant sound of someone yelling obscenities.

 

The door of the tower then opened with a loud groan and squeak of its hinges. Khadgar looked and found himself staring at a tall, slender gentleman that reminded him a little of a weasel. The man’s hair was dark brown, reaching just above his shoulders and well kept. He was dressed in fine red and black suit. But the detail that took away from his immaculate appearance was that he was wearing horse’s blinders.

 

Khadgar watched as the man who had brought a broom and dustpan began to clean up the glass. It was then he found his voice and spoke up. “U-um, e-excuse me, sir…?”

 

At first, the man in red didn’t respond. It was after another attempt of Khadgar trying to get his attention he looked up at him. His eyes scanned over the youth, his face was a mask of pure of boredom. It was hard to tell what he was thinking as he looked the mageling over. The man then made the slightest frown before he finally spoke. “I take it you have business here?”

 

Khadgar caught himself staring and scrambled to hand the man his letter of introduction. “Khadgar.”

 

The man in red gave a confused blink before he eyed the letter but made no move to take it. Instead, he looked up at the boy with a quirked eyebrow.

 

“Of Dalaran.” Khadgar abruptly continued. “Khadgar of Dalaran, in the Kingdom of Lordaeron.” His face grew hot the more he talked. Words surged forward like a broken faucet. “I was sent by the Kirin Tor. In the Violet Citadel. In Dalaran. In Lordaeron.” The mageling's voice went higher in pitch with each sentence as embarrassment engulfed him.

 

“I see...” the man in red said before the slightest hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Well, Khadgar of the Kirin Tor, in the Violet Citadel, in Dalaran, in Lordaeron, I am Moroes. I’m the tower steward and Castellan of Karazhan.”

 

“Castellan…?” Khadgar blinked and looked around at the town surrounding the tower. “That’s like a governor, isn’t it?”

 

“Hmm, awfully astute of you...” Moroes said in a mild sarcastic tone. He then set the dustpan and broom aside and clasped his hands behind his back. “Yes, Master Medivh owns the tower and the land surrounding it. It’s my job to keep things in ship shape and running while he performs his duties.”

 

Khadgar blinked, his eyes widened a little. “Is the magus a nobleman?”

 

Moroes gave a small shrug. “He is, but the most the Master calls himself is an ‘over glorified landlord’.”

 

“I-I see...” Khadgar said. “M-may I meet with him?”

 

Moroes he reached into his pocket and took out a pocket watch. With a click, it opened and he looked at the time. “Hmm, it’s not ungodly late yet, I suppose it should be fine.” Moroes snapped the watch closed and slipped it in his pocket. “Perhaps a visitor will put him off working on that mechanical monstrosity late into the night.”

 

Khadgar eyes were drawn up towards the broken window far above. He couldn’t help but wonder about the explosion from earlier. A loud clearing of the throat brought his attention back to Moroes, who was waiting for him in the doorway.

 

“Did you want to come in or do you wish to sleep under the stars tonight?” asked the Castellan, his voice never losing its ‘ho-hum’ tone.

 

Khadgar jumped slightly then followed him through the door. With his first step inside the tower, Khadgar felt goosebumps rise from his skin. There was an odd presence to his new surroundings, time itself felt strange as if it slowed for a moment.

 

Khadgar followed Moroes while allowing his eyes to drink in every detail they could. He saw carvings of horses that lined the higher parts of the walls that led to the entrance of what appeared to be stables. A loud clearing of the throat from Moroes urged Khadgar to hurry his pace. They passed through a crafted stone archway; Khadgar's boots thumped heavily against marble stairs that led to a ballroom.

 

“Master Medivh is up in his study, we’ll be taking the servants’ shortcuts to get there in quicker time.” Moroes explained as he looked over his shoulder to Khadgar. “So please try to keep up, the last thing you’d want is to get lost here.”

 

“Yes, sir!” Khadgar said while walking faster.

 

Keeping up with Moroes was easier said than done. As soon as the pair slipped into the servants’ passageways the Castellan moved at a brisk pace. Khadgar was surprised such a lanky looking man could move so gracefully. The man glided across the floor like a specter, his movements fluid and soundless.

 

The servants’ passages were hidden and had no windows. After all, nobody wanted to see servants; perhaps nobody wanted to see the young mage either. The walls around them were winding and terribly narrow, claustrophobic. Khadgar followed Moroes around corners and up and down stairs. The layout of the passageways made no sense; it shouldn’t have been possible. It left Khadgar feeling disoriented. At one point he lost sight of the lanky man. Khadgar’s gut twisted in a panic until he spied the flick of a coattail from around a corner. With a sprint, he desperately tried to catch up. It almost seemed the Castellan was secretly trying to lose him. To leave the young mage lost and left to wander in a maze until his death.

 

The horrifying thought was cut short when Khadgar rammed into Moroes’ back. He stumbled back a bit and saw the Castellan was waiting for him next to a door.

 

Moroes dusted himself off before opening the door. “This way.”

 

Khadgar hurried out of the passageway and was greeted by the sight of a balcony. He walked towards the railing and his eyes grew wide at the sight of an incredible library down below. Its size shouldn’t have been possible yet there it was. There were different levels with walls lined with bookshelves. Large tapestries that hung between windows emblazoned with fantastic beasts and mythic figures. The floors were decorated with an elegant pattern of star-like shapes and circles. Looking up Khadgar saw more balconies and bridges that led to a number of rooms and different sections. He felt a strong urge to go see what was up there but he had to reign his curiosity in, he needed to focus.

 

Moroes led Khadgar to another, more discreet door, opened it and allowed the young mage inside. “This is Master Medivh’s personal study, pardon the mess.”

 

The study had two levels to it, an upper level that had a display of a number of planets that surrounded a gigantic, moving astrolabe. Khadgar stared at it in awe before his gaze moved upward to thousands of small, glittering lights that floated above the display. His jaw fell slack when he realized that it was a map of the stars. Khadgar had never seen anything like it in Dalaran, not even in the Violet Citadel.

 

“Close your mouth, you’re not a codfish.” Moroes chided while continuing ahead.

 

Khadgar followed Moroes down into the lower level of the study. It certainly looked much more ‘lived in’ compared to the upper level. While still beautiful with the continued motif stars and planets it was much less tidy. The young mage noticed various books stacked about on tables, shelves, and even the floor. Khadgar’s keen eye caught some of the titles. While there were texts on magic and science, they were mixed in with fiction books. He recognized titles of adventure novels, dramas, romance and...erotica. There was a shameless collection of smutty books that were kept together in their own little area of the study.

 

“An...avid reader, I take it?” Khadgar asked before he looked at Moroes, not wanting to lose the man.

 

“Yes, of various things.” Moroes said as he continued to lead the boy through the room.

 

There were other details stood out to Khadgar. On one table was a chess set, next to it were playing cards, dice and hearthstone board that was left half open. There was a large, comfortable looking couch that obviously served as a bed. On it rested a plush animal, some sort of black bird. It looked soft, large enough that it could serve as a pillow, and well loved. An item of comfort from a time when life was much more simple. Khadgar had a favorite plush when he was a child as well. Though his was taken from him when his caregivers thought him too old to have such things.

 

“Over here, young man.” Moroes stood before a large wooden door, he beckoned Khadgar over before turning to face it. “This door leads to the Master’s lab, he’s shut himself in here all evening.”

 

Khadgar noticed that there were effigies of ravens carved into the door. Their eyes, that looked almost a little too real, felt like they were locked onto him.

 

Moroes reached for the door’s latch but suddenly paused. His brow knit together in a small frown as he looked at it suspiciously. Raising his hand, Moroes pressed the back of his hand against the door. “Stand back...”

 

“What? Why?” Khadgar asked as he took a few steps away.

 

Moroes didn’t answer, instead he pulled a large handkerchief from his breast pocket and wrapped it around his hand. He took hold of the door’s handle and carefully pulled it open. From within the lab came the roar of flames and a wave of intense heat that made Khadgar reel back.

 

It was like the door led straight into a dragon’s den. Khadgar threw his arm up to protect his eyes. The light within the room burned like hellfire, angry and ruthless. If he squinted, Khadgar could make out the silhouette of a man within the room. He blinked and winced at how his eyes ached, who could bare being in such heat?

 

The flames from within the room started to die down. The cool air from the rest of the study was a much-needed relief. After a few blinks, Khadgar could finally see the man in the lab clearly. They were tall, dressed in a loose-fitting shirt, a pair of trousers, and oddly no shoes on his feet. Their long, raven hair was tied back into a messy tail and a pair of work goggles shielded his eyes.

 

But what made Khadgar nervous was the fact the strange man was wielding a lit welding torch. It’s flame burned so bright that it hurt one’s eyes to look at it directly. The magical energy that radiated from it made Khadgar suspect that the tool was meant to imitate a dragon’s fire.

 

The torch-wielding man looked up at the clockwork golem. “Curator, how are you holding up? Didn’t fry anything too badly, did I?”

 

“Checking systems...” the golem spoke, much to Khadgar’s surprise. Its gears turned and the runes carved in its metal frame glowed dimly. “Language circuits received minor heat damage. Speech functions are still operational. However, the wrong blueberries may get used from time to butterscotch.”

 

After the heat died down Moroes walked into the study, motioning for the fledgling mage to follow. With a loud 'hurrumph' he caught the man’s attention. Moroes then spoke in a stern, commanding tone that made Khadgar jump. “Master Medivh, you have a guest!”

 

“Huh?” Medivh looked at them, his head canting in a bird-like way. “Oh!”

 

The magus set the blowtorch aside on a worktable. A number of burns and stains of dirt and sweat marred his clothing, it all smelled of oil and metal. Khadgar noticed that aside from the goggles and gloves, Medivh wasn’t wearing much else for protection at all.

 

“None too scorched I hope...” Medivh pushed up his work goggles to rest atop his head. His eyes were forest green, dark circles under them was the telltale sign that the magus was lacking sleep. Yet his eyes still held a certain shine in them that contrasted to the rest of Medivh’s dirty face.

 

“Not as bad as your gloves.” Moroes said while resting his hands on his hips. “Speaking of which, one of them is on fire.”

 

“What?” Medivh looked at his work gloves and sure enough one of them had caught fire. Startled, the magus gasped before pulling the glove off and throwing it to the ground. “Gah! Damn it! You’d think ‘flame resistant gloves’ would do as the name implies and actually resist flames!”

 

The golem, or ‘curator’ as Medivh called it, moved its arm in a convulsive motion and pointed it at the magus. With a loud ‘clang’ a nozzle popped out of a compartment in its wrist. “Fire threat detected. Extinguishing.”

 

Medivh looked at the curator and threw up his hands in a poor attempt to shield himself. “Wait, stop! No! No! N--”

 

Lines on the curator’s frame began to glow. Much like a mage, it gathered moisture from the air, converted it into water and sprayed its master. The fire was put out but Medivh had been thrown right off his feet.

 

“The fire has been extinguished.” the curator announced, sounding rather pleased with itself. “Master Medivh is safe.”

 

Medivh was sprawled out on the floor. With an effort he sat himself up and coughed, spitting up some water. “Yes, you saved me.” Medivh said before coughing once more. “You’ve earned yourself a rest, take a nap Curator.”

 

“Understood, entering ‘sleep mode’. Goodnight.” the curator announced. It slumped forward before its gears stopped turning and became little more than a clockwork statue.

 

“Shall I go fetch Doc?” Moroes asked.

 

“No, no, I’m fine. All that’s hurt is my pride.” Medivh said with a raised hand to wave the offer off. Carefully, he climbed back onto his feet and looked down at his soaked clothing. “A towel would be nice though.”

 

“That and some dry clothes.” Moroes added before marching towards a wardrobe. “You’ll catch your death gallivanting around like that.”

 

“Yes, yes, Mother Hen.” Medivh rolled his eyes before taking hold of his long, dark hair and wrung out the water. Without another word, he begun to undress, not caring that a stranger was in the room watching him.

 

Khadgar stood flabbergasted, his mouth agape while his face flushed at the boldness of this strange man. His eyes couldn’t look away while the magus shed his clothing, acting like the fledgling mage didn’t even exist. Khadgar's mind scrambled to put together the puzzle set before him. There was no way this was Medivh Aran. There had to be a mistake. Perhaps a large, elaborate joke at Khadgar's expense. This man was far too disorderly to command such respect from his fellow magi.

 

Moroes returned with a towel and fresh set of clothes for his master. He glanced at Khadgar and saw the boy was gawking. With a roll of his eyes, Moroes reached over and gently lifted the boy’s chin and closed his mouth. “What did I tell you earlier? Stop impersonating a fish.”

 

Medivh sauntered towards the pair. The young mage could feel himself being picked apart as the magus quietly studied him. His eyes came to an abrupt halt at the thick, white stripe in the boy’s hair. “Is that some sort of fashion trend?”

 

Khadgar’s face flushed red before he covered the streak of white with his hand. Being teased for having a ‘skunk’s stripe’ since childhood had made him embarrassed about it. “No, sir.”

 

“Who are you?” Medivh sniffed and wiped his nose before taking the towel Moroes offered him. He took a moment to wipe the oil and dirt from his face before drying himself off.

 

“My name’s Khadgar, sir...” Khadgar spoke up. His eyes started to trail down the older mage’s body.

 

If he had to guess, Medivh had to be in his early to mid-thirties which was young by mage standards. It was strange that the Kirin Tor would be so insistent that someone Medivh's age should take an apprentice. Khadgar couldn't stop himself from continuing to study the older man's body. Dare he think it, the magus wasn't unpleasant to look at. He couldn't deny that Medivh was attractive but what stood out the most was that his skin was marred with numerous scars. Some were old and fading while others looked much newer and eerily fresh. Many of them had a certain viciousness that couldn't have been from backfiring experiments.

 

"Battle scars...?" Khadgar muttered to himself. His gaze continued to move even lower before his face flushed hotly as it blushed red. He immediately forced himself to look away.

 

“And what business do you have with me?” Medivh asked while starting to redress himself. The young mage then shoved the letter of introduction at him almost hitting the magus in the chest. The wax seal of the violet eye stared back at Medivh, almost tauntingly so. A look of disgust spread across his face as if the boy just handed him a cockroach.

 

“My name is Khadgar I’ve-”

 

“Been sent by the Kirin Tor.” Medivh finished for him in a blunt drawl. Without another word, he plucked the envelope from Khadgar’s hand and walked towards the study’s fireplace. He gave the envelope a brief look before tossing it into the hungry flames.

 

Khadgar made a loud, strangled whine that caught Medivh and Moroes off guard. The two watched as the boy turned deathly pale as his future went up in smoke. Lab equipment that sat on a nearby worktable began to rattle violently. One of the glass beakers was knocked off of it by an unseen force and shattered when it hit the ground.

 

Medivh looked at the broken glass on the floor, then to the shattered window of his lab. He frowned as he quietly contemplated something before turning to face Moroes. “Is the boy ill?”

 

“Perhaps worn out.” the Castellan said with a slight shrug. “We took some shortcuts and it may have left him a tad winded.”

 

“Th-the letter!” Khadgar finally managed to form words.

 

“What of it?” Medivh asked, his tone cold. “Oh, wait, let me guess what it says!” he cleared his throat before speaking gracefully but laced with sarcasm. “‘Great Magus Medivh, Lord of Karazhan, we send you greetings from the Kirin Tor, the magical authority of Dalaran, the adviser to kings, protectors, preservers, and teachers of the magical arts…blah, blah, blah, you get the gist, right? They always fluff up their own importance before getting to want they want.”

 

“I-I wouldn’t know, I was told not to read it.” Khadgar said.

 

“But you did, didn’t you?” Medivh challenged him, his eyes took on a slight glow. He looked dangerous, like a cat about to toy with a mouse. “Granted, I would too if I was sent all the way out here from Lordaeron,” Medivh smirked. “I’ll admit that you’re clever, I almost missed that the seal was tampered with.”

 

Khadgar swallowed. “How did you know what it said though?”

 

“Magic, of course!” Medivh said as a wolf-like grin flashed across his face. “As soon as I touched it the words just flowed into my brain.”

 

“...Really?” Khadgar asked, a little uncertain.

 

“Of course not, that’s just silly!” Medivh said before laughing. “No, the fact is, you’re not the first one the Kirin Tor has sent to me. I’ve read that damned letter plenty of times already.”

 

Khadgar’s hand pressed against his stomach when he felt it twist, he felt sick. “H-how...How many have they sent…?”

 

“Hmm, let’s see, you are...” Medivh made a show of looking thoughtful. “Oh my, you’re lucky number thirteen, fancy that!”

 

Khadgar’s heart grew heavy and began to sink like a stone. He had no illusions that his sudden assignment was for his accomplishments as a student. But this felt cruel. “Th-thirteen…?”

 

“Yes, so to commemorate the occasion we’ll avoid all the hassle your predecessors went through.” Medivh said as though it were a benevolent act. “I’m not ready to take on an apprentice and I want your masters to stop harassing me.”

 

“N-no, wait, I-I…Y-you don't understand!” the words tumbled from Khadgar’s mouth as panic washed over him like a tidal wave. “Sir, please! I don’t have any means of going back!”

 

“If you wasted your funds like an idiot, that’s your problem, not mine.” Medivh said while waving a hand, like shooing the issue away like a pesky fly.

 

“I didn’t waste anything! I was barely given enough to get here!” Khadgar snapped, he felt power behind his words and a short gust of wind. He tried to reign himself in immediately but saw the wind had blown against the magus.

 

Khadgar may as well had made an offending gesture at Medivh. The older mage glared at him, his green eyes became venomous. He called arcane power to one of his hands forming a crackling ball of violet light in his palm. Khadgar backed away but before the magus could throw it at him Moroes stepped in his path.

 

“Medivh, calm yourself.” the Castellan drawled in a stern tone. He acted as though he weren’t in the way of a deadly spell. Perhaps he simply didn’t care, it was hard to tell since Moroes’ face was an aloof mask. He stood his ground and didn't flinch while Medivh scrambled to stop himself from striking the servant. “Are you really going to drench your hands with the blood of a child?”

 

“It doesn’t help that the so-called 'child' is walking powder keg!” Medivh snapped while glaring at Moroes. Regardless, the Castellan stood firm and unfazed, he simply gave a firm stare of his own. A look that was reminiscent of a parent when they scolded an ornery brat. A silent minute passed before Medivh's eyes finally softened, his gaze shifted back to Khadgar. “You have a hard time controlling your emotions, don’t you?”

 

Khadgar swallowed and broke eye contact. “...S-sometimes, sir. But I'm-”

 

“And that can make for volatile magic." Medivh interrupted him. "Quite dangerous to yourself and others should you never learn to control yourself.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked cautiously curious. “Is that why they sent you to me? They thought I’d take you on as a challenge or something?”

 

Khadgar huffed out an irritated sigh. “Maybe you would have known if you hadn’t burned the letter.”

 

Medivh gave a befuddled blink. He looked like someone had slapped him in the face. Both mages caught the sound of a loud snort that escaped Moroes before he turned away from them. Khadgar noticed the servant trembling, he could have sworn he heard a small, stifled laugh.

 

“I...I-I...Well, that’s!...Th-the letter...” Medivh’s retort died into silence. He eyed the fireplace while trying to think of an argument. A moment passed before the corner of Magus’ mouth twitched and formed into an amused smirk. “Huh, well I’ll be damned, you actually got me!" He broke out into a hearty laugh. It echoed throughout his lab and lifted the heavy tension with it like it were a mere feather. "You have a little bite to you! I admit it, I like that.”

 

Khadgar felt a small swell of satisfaction in his chest, as petty as it might have been.

 

Medivh's eyes searched the boy, looking for something Khadgar couldn't quite comprehend. Perhaps it was dishonesty. If that was the case then he had nothing to hide. “So, you claim the Kirin Tor have done you a huge disservice?”

 

Khadgar blinked at the question, his hands began to fidget a little. “Well, surely it wasn’t on purpos-”

 

“They said nothing of their other twelve attempts to push their people onto me.” Medivh interrupted him. “Furthermore, they sent you all the way to Stormwind with barely enough funds to get here. Is that correct?” He then snapped his fingers in rapid succession. “Come on, be quicker than that, a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ will do.”

 

“Y-yes, sir!” Khadgar answered abruptly.

 

“These are serious accusations, boy.” Medivh said. His tone then shifted, sounding almost sympathetic. “Yet not all that surprising. You’re certainly the youngest they've sent to me. I wonder, what did you do that got under their skin?”

 

“I...I don’t want to talk about that...” Khadgar said, looking away from the magus.

 

“No need to then.” Medivh said while giving a small shrug. “But I suppose Moroes has a point. I'd rather not have your blood on my hands. Turning you away would be like killing you myself." Medivh lightly tapped his cheek with a finger and looked thoughtful. "I’m feeling a little generous today.”

 

Khadgar looked up at Medivh hopefully. “Sir…?”

 

“You could stay as one of the tower’s staff for a little while.” Medivh suggested. “Until you’ve earned enough money to safely return to Dalaran. That’s my offer to you, take it or leave it.”

 

Khadgar chewed on his lower lip, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I’ll take it, sir.”

 

Medivh's eyes shined with mischief, their green color reminded Khadgar of poison. "Welcome to Karazhan."


	2. Chapter 2

A good (sometimes flexible) routine provided much-needed structure in life. A fact Moroes knew all too well having served under _two_ powerful magi during his lifetime. Structure helped keep the mind and a mage’s tower running efficiently. Moroes made sure that everyone on the tower’s staff had their tasks and their roles to play. Karazhan’s Tower ran like a well-oiled machine, a fact the Castellan took pride in. Though Moroes had to admit there were the occasional ‘kinks’ here and there. The most current kink being their newest addition, the mageling from Dalaran.

 

Khadgar was a nice enough fellow, that much Moroes would give him credit for. But in the week’s time, he had been part of the staff’s ranks he showed a knack for getting into trouble. The lad had the worst luck that Moroes had ever seen. Khadgar could be a little clumsy but the root of his woes was how he tried to find magical solutions to situations that didn’t need them.

 

As if on cue, a loud crash drew Moroes’ attention towards the entrance of the guest hall. He gave a slow blink, his gut instinct told him he already knew _who_ the cause was. Surely enough Khadgar wildly scrambled around the corner and out from the hall. He was promptly followed by a pair of levitating broomsticks that were swinging and swatting at him.

 

“Run!” Khadgar yelped as he sped past Moroes. He looked over his shoulder only to find the Castellan stood his ground. Khadgar came to a halt and almost toppled over before turning around to try to help him. “Mr. Moroes! Watch out!”

 

One broom swung for the older man’s head but hit nothing as Moroes ducked out of the way. With surprising grace, he sidestepped the second broom’s attempt to deliver an uppercut. It was like watching a person dance as Moroes swerved and dodged each attempt to strike him. Then as fast as a blink, the Castellan lashed out at one broom. Something metallic glinted in the light but it was gone before Khadgar could get a good look at what it was. The broom clattered to the floor in two pieces.

 

Khadgar felt a chill crawl up his spine. For the briefest of moments, he felt a flash of viciousness in Moroes as he struck down the broomstick. As if there was something carnal hiding under a calm, glum facade.

 

Moroes turned to face the remaining floating broom, which was quivering in the air in what appeared to be fear. “Wish to try your luck?”

 

At that, the broom let itself fall to the ground and lied motionlessly. Moroes sniffed before dusting himself off and straightening out his uniform. His hazel eyes were then drawn to Khadgar, his gaze was sharp, piercing through the boy as though he were made of paper.

 

“Young Khadgar you were to tidy up the bathhouse, a _simple task_ .” Moroes said as he crossed his arms. “Yet somehow you’ve _still_ managed to make it into a dramatic production. You’re giving the _theater troupe_ a run for their money!”

 

“I’m sorry sir!” Khadgar said abruptly, his head bowed as he fidgeted with his hands. “I...I was just trying to make the job easier...”

 

Moroes noted the boy’s body language, growing anxiety no doubt. The lad was no stranger to being scolded but there was a danger given his power. A vase was a victim of one misfire the other day and a couple other ‘accidents’ that made Moroes suspect the lad’s magic was at fault. With a small sigh, he reigned in his temper and mentally counted to ten.

 

“I’m more than aware you mages seek out ‘creative solutions’.” Moroes began, picking his words carefully. To him, mages were the hardest working lazy people he had ever seen. Always turning to magic for solutions to the silliest tasks just so they didn’t have to do them anymore. “But sometimes the simplest answer is the best one. Your job _could_ have been done by now but surely you’ve gone and made a bigger mess you’ll have to fix.”

 

Khadgar’s eyes shifted away from Moroes, his face burning red as he rubbed the back of his neck. An offered broom drew his attention back to the Castellan. Khadgar quietly took it as he allowed Moroes’ words to sink in. “...I’m sorry, sir.”

 

“The apology is appreciated but it will mean more when things are done.” Moroes began. He fished around in his vest pocket before finally pulling his prized watch before adding: “...and _without needless magic_.” With a click, the watch’s cover swung open and revealed the time. “It will be noon in an hour and a half. Hurry up and you’ll be able to have lunch with the rest of us.”

 

“Will the Magus be there today?” Khadgar asked. He covered his mouth at the suddenness of his own question, hoping he didn’t sound rude. But it would have been a lie if Khadgar said he wasn’t curious. He had barely seen the magus since he had come to Karazhan. From the chatters among the denizens who called Karazhan home, there was a growing concern.

 

Mealtimes were surprisingly warm events in the tower. The people that lived there, from staff to friends of the magus, would all dine together for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The dining hall was the spectacle to behold with its beautiful stained-glass windows and stonework. It was at its most lovely when there were people there laughing and chattering away over good food.

 

Moroes snapped the cover of his watch shut before putting it back in his pocket. “I should say so, it’s part of his usual routine. His absence is due to him recovering from a ‘rough night’ from earlier this week.”

 

“A ‘rough night’?” Khadgar said curiously before the wheels in his head began to turn. He was no stranger to the concept of sex. Dalaran made sure to give a _very scientific_ explanation on attraction and 'good breeding'. Not to mention, Khadgar’s own snooping had revealed more than he ever wanted to know about people and the world of sex. “Oh, so he’s one of _those_...”

 

A swift, firm flick to the side of Khadgar’s head snapped out of such thoughts.

 

Moroes gave a loud 'harrumph' before speaking. “Kindly remove your head from the gutter and go clean the bathhouse! Off with you! Shoo!”

 

“R-right! Sorry!” Khadgar jolted with a start and hurried off with the broom in hand. Moroes could be like a walking hornet’s nest and he didn’t want to incur any more of his stinging wrath.

 

Moroes watched Khadgar disappear around the corner of the guest hall. With a small sigh, he rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Light help that boy.”

 

-o-o-o-

 

Medivh’s body felt heavy like lead, moving was a sore chore and he did _not_ want to get up. He lied not in bed, but on his favorite couch in his study, wrapped in a thick, warm blanket to keep the chill away.  The Magus looked at one of his bandaged arms, part of the price paid for a stupid mistake. With a sigh, Medivh pulled his blanket closer and shut his eyes. He’d take care of it later, he was in no mood to start his day or deal with people.

 

Time would wait for no one. Sunlight filtered in from one of the stain glass windows of Medivh’s study, brightening the room with each passing minute. The magus rolled over, turning his back to it all and tried to focus on the sound of humming magic that coursed throughout the room. It had a slow, steady rhythm, reminiscent of a heartbeat. Listening to it made it easier to relax, easier to sleep.

 

The magus chose to ignore the distant sound of the study’s door creaking open. The presence that was carried into the room on silent footsteps. The feeling of eyes on him as their owner waited a moment before speaking.

 

“Master Medivh, it’s time to get up.” Moroes’ voice drawled.

 

Medivh kept still, feigning sleep as best he could.

 

“I know you’re awake, there’s no point in trying.” Moroes continued. “Come now, your condition requires a good routine and I’ve spoiled you enough.” With that Moroes clapped his hands together twice, the sound was loud and echoed throughout the study. “Up, _now_.”

 

Medivh huffed out an annoyed sigh but, with some effort, got himself to sit up. “Come on Moroes, I’m injured.”

 

“That may be but lying about isn’t going to do you any favors.” The Castellan turned on his heel and made a beeline towards his master’s wardrobe. A study _wasn’t_ the place for such a thing but given Medivh’s _insistence_ of living there, Moroes relented. He picked through the clothing, taking out a loose, long-sleeved shirt and a pair of trousers. “Besides, people are starting to worry about you.”

 

“Yes, yes, Mother Hen.” Medivh sighed. He watched as Moroes marched over to the couch and set down the clothing he picked out. There was no getting out of it, he was going to have to participate in life that day. Medivh gave a small sigh and began to undress. “How’s the new hire?”

 

“Still the same since you last asked.” Moroes answered bluntly, perhaps even too quickly. “He’s the very concept of ‘trouble’ walking on two legs. He’s broken _five_ vases and doesn’t seem to know how to do chores without trying to conjure up some hackneyed ‘magical solution’. I have no doubt he trashed the bathhouse this morning.”

 

“The Kirin Tor raises magi, not people.” Medivh said as he stood up from his couch to change into his trousers. “I think the first twelve would-be-apprentices made that obvious enough.”

 

“Pish!” Moroes scoffed. “It’s ridiculous!”

 

“It is, but so is the world in general.” Medivh yawned and carefully stretched. Bandages weren’t only on his arm but his shoulder and chest as well. Pain twisted the magus’ face in a wince as he gave a small hiss.

 

This wasn’t lost on Moroes, his usual mask gave way to a hint of concern. “I’ll have Doc give you another check up this evening.”

 

“No need.” Medivh said as he pointed to a table where a stack of letters sat. One, with a violet seal, had torn open and read. “I’ll be going out again tonight.”

 

“Of course, because, you know, they’re just...” Moroes then went quiet. His mouth formed a firm line as he bit back a ‘colorful comment’ for the letter’s sender.

 

“It is what it is...” Medivh said with a shrug. A small, playful smile then played across his lips. “Where would you guess the new hire would be about now?”

 

“I ordered _Khadgar_ to finish cleaning the bathhouse, chances are he’s still there.” Moroes said, emphasizing the boy’s name. His head slightly canted and his brow was drawn into a frown. “No nonsense from you now, it’s almost time for lunch. You are to freshen up, head downstairs, and spend some time with everyone. No more isolating yourself.”

 

“Yes, Mother Hen...” Medivh said as he rolled his eyes. He then caught a stern look from the loyal Castellan and cleared his throat. “I’ll be there, you can count on it.”

 

“Hmph, Good.” Moroes huffed before turning on his heel and made his way to exit the study.

 

Medivh watched him leave and waited until he was gone before an impish smile flashed across his face.

 

-o-o-o-

 

Finally, his task was complete. Khadgar looked over the now clean bathing room with quiet satisfaction. He had done it all with avoiding any magic as Moroes requested. While he had to admit Moroes had a point, he couldn’t help but think of ways he could have fixed his spells and make them work. The desire to try again nibbled at Khadgar, like an itch that demanded to be scratched.

 

Lost in his thoughts, the mageling failed to notice that he had a little visitor. Standing at the entrance of the bathhouse was a rather large raven. It watched the boy as he muttered to himself with green eyes that were alight with mischief. The black bird padded its way closer to the boy until it was standing behind him.

 

“CAW!”

 

The shrill cry rang throughout the room, causing Khadgar to jump nearly a foot into the air. He whirled around and was left confused at not seeing anyone else there. Strange warbling noises drew the mageling’s attention towards the floor. Khadgar did a double take upon seeing the bird. The raven canted his head one way and Khadgar canted his head the other as they stared at each other.

 

“Where did you come from?” Khadgar asked, only to notice how silly it was to talk to a bird of all things.

 

“Hey-lo!” the raven spoke, its voice carried in an unnatural cadence, typical of an animal imitating speech.

 

“Uh, h-hello…?” Khadgar answered.

 

Without warning the raven fluttered and took to the air, startling the young mageling as it flew over him. The bird perched itself on a table where towels were folded neatly, only for them to be knocked onto the ground.

 

“Stop that!” Khadgar ran over to chase the raven away. To his surprise, the animal showed no fear of him. Instead, it waited until Khadgar was close enough, leaped from the table, landed on his head, and bounced off to take flight.

 

The raven landed on the head of a stone lion statue, its green eyes locked with Khadgar’s. With a ruffle of its feathers, it made a small croaking noise. “Poh-tay-toh…”

 

Khadgar blinked before looking confused. As ridiculous as it sounded, the large raven’s word felt directed _at him_. “Did...did you just call me a potato?”

 

“Poh...tay...toh…!” the raven warbled, its tone sounded as if it were mocking the mageling.

 

Khadgar drew in a breath through his nose and released it as a sigh. “Don’t let it bother you Khadgar, it’s just a _stupid_ bird.”

 

“Skunk boy!” the raven called out, this time the teasing tone was unmistakable.

 

Khadgar’s mouth formed a firm line. His eyes scanned the area, looking for anything he could use to get rid of his unwanted guest. Khadgar’s gaze paused upon landing on a good-sized window. He walked over, opened it, and then looked for something that he could use to coax the raven into leaving.

 

The large raven watched Khadgar curiously as he took up a broom and raised its bristled end toward the lion statue. Khadgar moved the broom slowly, hoping to nudge the bird into flying to the window. Instead the raven didn’t seem all that concerned, its eyes were locked on Khadgar. The broom nudged the raven and at first, it _refused_ to budge from its perch. Another, rougher nudge finally got the pest to move, only it didn’t fly away. Instead, the raven had perched itself securely onto the end of the broomstick, its green eyes leered at Khadgar defiantly. As if it were challenging him.

 

Khadgar frowned, his grip on the broom handle tightened as he slowly moved the bird towards the open window. His sky blue eyes remained locked with the raven’s forest green in a silent duel of wills. Inch by careful inch, Khadgar held the raven just outside the window.

 

“Looks like I win.” Khadgar said. A triumphant smirk flashed across his face as he was about to shake the stupid bird off the broom.

 

“CAW!”

 

Without warning the raven launched itself off the broom but instead of flying away it swooped towards Khadgar. Startled, the young mageling stumbled backward, tripped over himself and fell. Everything went black with a hard, painful ‘thud’.

 

-o-o-o-

 

“...Kha...gar…!? Ar...ou...al...ight....!?”

 

The voice above Khadgar sounded muffled and distorted, as though he were submerged under water. That terrifying thought roused the boy closer to consciousness. Khadgar’s eyes snapped open expecting the oppressive darkness and weight of a lake or the sea. Instead, he was greeted by the sight of the worried looking Medivh.

 

Khadgar felt the man’s hands on both sides of his face, the feeling grounded him a bit, bringing him back to reality. “What…? What happened…?”

 

“Oh thank goodness!” A look of relief spread across Medivh’s face upon hearing the boy’s voice. “You, uh…” the magus paused a second before he mumbled: “...had a nasty fall.”

 

“B-bird…!” Khadgar blurted out.

 

“What?”

 

“...Did I get rid of the bird…?” Khadgar asked.

 

“...Yes, you did.” Medivh said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I saw him hop right out the window.” He then moved to help the boy sit up. His fingers then combed through Khadgar’s hair, feeling for any telltale signs of injury. “Your pupils are fine...Not finding any cuts...Are you feeling dizzy? Lightheaded?”

 

Khadgar shivered a little at the feeling of the Magus’ nails brushing against the surface of his scalp. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, which startled him and made his face flush. “N-no, I’m alright…”

 

After giving the boy a moment, Medivh carefully helped Khadgar get back onto his feet. He looked as though he wanted to say something but bit his lip. Instead, he dropped what he wanted to say and changed the subject.

 

“It’s time for lunch.” Medivh said before taking a more casual tone. “Let’s head down to the dining hall together, before you find your way into more trouble.”

 

-End of Chapter 2-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to continue, this chapter went through a number of rewrites. But thank you for being patient with me! I'm rather pleased with how this chapter turned out and I want to thank Kalla_Moonshado, Sigurdjarlson, and Xinnyx for test reading this for me. You guys were a huge help!
> 
> Thank you for reading! I'll see you next time! :D


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